


Riding the Current

by Siriusfanatic



Series: X-Men: Past, Present and Future [3]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Storm, Cheating, Depressing Repressed Bisexual Scott Summers, F/M, Hidden Relationships, Jealousy, M/M, Mentions of Previous Relationships, hints of Logan/Jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4068274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusfanatic/pseuds/Siriusfanatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since Hank left for Washington, Logan hasn't been himself, feeling isolated and alone among his fellow mutants at Xavier's. Ororo Munroe has watched Logan from a distance for months, unsure whether she should attempt to express her own desires for the man or leave him be. She's pushed into action when she sees Scott taking advantage of Wolverine's loneliness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

                The mornings seemed to find him earlier and earlier these days. Perhaps it was his feral nature that made him restless in the morning sun and told him to either rise or find a darker place to slink into to hide from the light. But the only darker place these days seemed to be his own mind and heart.

                He was in the staff kitchen this morning before anyone else, sitting at the window seat, a ball of stiff muscles, unkempt hair, unshaven face and blood shot eyes, his second cup of coffee getting cold in his hands. Hank had been gone for a month, and his absence seemed painfully marked to Wolverine.

                Without him, Logan had fallen back into his reclusive ways, talking little and to no one save a few casual words with his favorite students. He spent whatever time he was not bodily trapped by some “team exercise” on his own in the woods surrounding the mansion, wandering and listless, or heading into town, getting staggeringly drunk before making his way home and passing out wherever was convenient.

                It was growing concern for the entire team, though Logan ignored their gentle inquires and advice. Charles attempted to speak with Logan at length just yesterday, voicing his concern that Logan might be falling into depression. The feral had humored him; listened and answered his questions as best he could manage without giving much away. He did owe Charles, and he was grateful to the man. But Xavier wasn’t his master, and Logan was too stubborn to admit that he was struggling.

                He always wanted to be alone to lick his wounds in privacy. But he couldn’t escape one very solid fact about himself; he was a solitary creature by _habit_ , not nature. He _needed_ somebody, even if he was loath to admit it.

                He just started to doze then, the warm sunlight streaming through the east facing window making him comfortable and drowsy. The coffee cup almost slipped from his hand, but another reached out and caught it.

                “You’re really just an oversized house cat,” a warm voice said in his ear, making him blink suddenly. “You’re aware of this, aren’t you?”

                Logan found himself blinking into the face of Ororo Munroe, the woman better known as Storm among their little community. He stared at her, eyes somewhat glazed, as if he wasn’t sure she was real or not. She put her hand over his, giving it a little squeeze before returning the cup to it.

                “How long since you slept?” she asked.

                “It’s that noticeable?” he muttered, smiling dryly.

                She gave him one of her classic sympathetic smiles and brushed a knuckle along his jaw, feeling the dark bristly hair there. She calmed him and excited him all at once, and part of him wanted to fall into her and give over all control and let someone else help hold him together for awhile, the way Hank had. It would be a relief. But it was just a fantasy, a vague daydream in the back of his mind.

                “You’ve been elusive lately, my friend,” she noted, seating herself beside him on the bench. “If you ever need someone to confide in, my door is always open to you.”

                Wolverine said nothing, just gazing at her tiredly. “You’re sweet to offer, darlin’. But what makes you think I want to talk?”

                She shrugged her elegant shoulders, leaning back against the wall, drawing her own knees up in the same fashion his were, “Good point. That doesn’t seem to be your forte, does it?” she chuckled, nudging his arm with hers. “Still, I have often overheard you and Hank discussing history and Eastern culture long into the night. I admit, I’m not as well read on those subjects but…”

                Another person entered the kitchen and Logan’s eyes snapped to the intruder, nostrils flaring slightly. Scott helped himself to the coffee pot as was his usual ritual, but then turned, spotting the two of them sitting in the window seat. He raised his mug; “Morning,” he greeted. He stepped a little closer, gazing out the window before casually letting his eyes drop to Logan again. “You look rough. Out late again?” he asked.

                Logan scowled at him; “Staid put all night; not that it’s any of yer fuckin’ business.” He muttered, sipping his coffee and then grimacing when he realized it was ice cold. Ororo took the mug from his hand and neatly excused herself.

                “I’ll get you a fresh one.”

                Scott moved aside to let her pass, and then looked back at Logan with one eyebrow raised thoughtfully. “Seriously?”

                The feral sneered and looked away from him, seemingly as though he were trying to sink into the wall and disappear the same what Shadow Cat did. Unfortunately, Logan didn’t possess that ability. Scott leaned against the wall beside him, studying Logan with passive interest.

                “You must really hate yourself.”

                The feral growled quietly, tightening his fist as though he would unsheathe his claws, but Scott continued, unbothered; “Every mission we’ve had for the last month you’ve thrown yourself into headlong; recklessly even. Like a kamikaze. And when you’re not trying to get yourself blown to hell, you’re trying to drink yourself to death. And now…” he glanced in Storm’s direction, seeing the woman rummaging in the fridge. “You’re looking for another bed partner. Hank’s room has barely started gathering dust…”

                Logan was up, one claw shining, and Scott jolted as he felt the zing of one of them pass him with lightning quick reflexes. He stood there breathless for a moment, only to have his cup suddenly shatter, as Logan had cut it in half, and fall to the ground, dousing him in hot coffee.

                “Goddammit Wolverine!” he bellowed.

                Storm was suddenly there, blinking in confusion, “What’s going on?” she demanded. Logan slunk away, giving her a downcast look before disappearing through the doorway and loping down the hall.

                For a moment Ororo stood in confusion looking after him, then turned scowling to Scott. “ _Must_ you torment him? I thought you were supposed to be the moral example of this team?”

                Scott sighed and grabbed a dishtowel, wiping coffee off his shirt and arms; “I’m doing you a _favor_ , Ororo. You’ve seen what kind of trouble Logan’s been in since he came here, do you really want to get yourself mixed up in his mess? You’re too good for him.”

                She folded her arms across her chest, staring him down. “But you, apparently, are not?”

                Scott stiffened, slightly taken aback.

                “I’m not stupid, Scott. Neither is your fiancé , though she seems to choose ignorance in this matter. I’m not so obliging however. You’re trying to have your cake and eat it too. It seems especially poor timing, considering you and Jean are planning the wedding for _this year_ , aren’t you?”

                “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” the other man muttered, though his face was already faintly red with embarrassment.

                She shrugged. “Perhaps not. Either way, I don’t want to see you lurking around Wolverine in this manner again. We should be helping him, not taking advantage of him.”

                Scott sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to win this argument, and more over that she was right. Logan was obviously suffering, yet Scott only seemed to pour salt on the wounds. “You’re right, Storm. I’m sorry. I’ll apologize to him.”

                At this admission she softened and nodded, “I know you will,” she replied, sipping the coffee she had intended for Wolverine and watching the other man slink off to clean up, hoping that it would be the end of it.

 

**

 

                After a quick change, Scott made his way down to the Danger Room. He hoped to get in a quick session between classes, knowing that this time of day it wouldn’t be crowded with students or other staff members.

                He was surprised however to find that the room was already in use. He frowned at the little red light above the door that indicated that a program was in process, and ducked quickly into the observation deck to see who was inside.

                From the elevated deck, he could see the program playing out; it was an urban setting, one that seemed slightly foreign to the man with its crowded streets and multiple neon signs. A second later he saw Logan sprinting down the street, leaping deftly from car to car, bounding off the edges of buildings and car roof tops with a lightness that Scott hadn’t thought he possessed.

                The mutant was quickly intercepted by an equally light-footed band of ninjas, who were swarming around him, trying to snare him. But Logan was far too quick, too precise in his maneuvers and much too deadly in his retaliation to be snared.

                Logan seemed to know what the Ninjas would do a few seconds before they were able to act, consistently giving him the upper edge. Scott was fascinated; he hadn’t known Logan to use this particular program before. In fact, it seemed fairly new and unfamiliar to him. So why was Wolverine so well practiced in using not only his claws, but advanced martial art techniques?

                He hesitated, knowing he should leave the other man alone and let him have his space. But he rationalized that Logan might _need_ him, at least to observe, in case he became overwhelmed. He slipped down into the entry dock, entering his override code to allow him access.

 

                Logan hadn’t set the difficulty level high enough for his standards; these men were quick and deadly, but far too predictable. But after a few weeks of neglecting himself, he felt sluggish and slow. The healing factor could work wonders for sword wounds; but it couldn’t do shit for the haze of self-loathing he’d slipped into.

                But he was beginning to dig himself out of that whole now, one claw at a time, as he had done before. Wallowing in self-pity was not his style; taking apart assholes who were making the world shittier for everyone else w _as._

                “Program, raise difficulty level to eight,” Logan called.

                _“Negative. New combatant has entered program.”_

                “What?” Logan turned in surprise and received a severe blow to the head for his trouble, knocking him from his perch on a building ledge and sending him tumbling below, where he slammed into the roof of a car, creating a sizable creator.

                _“Son of a bitch…!”_ Logan wheezed, trying to pry himself up before the remaining enemies could descend on him. But just as he was about to be split in half, a hot ray of light sent them sprawling back, singed and seared.

                Wolverine groaned and rolled over, seeing Scott approaching him, readily taking on the descending villains. “What the hell do ya think yer doin’?” he barked, finally prying himself from the twisted metal and dropping to the sidewalk, in time to turn and grab the handlebars of a speeding motorcycle, allowing the driver to flip over his head and skid across the pavement before taking the bike and swinging it into another approaching group that was about to attack. “This is a _solo_ mission!”

                “With over a hundred enemies?!” Scott yelled; “Are you out of your mind!?”

                “I’m _fine!_ ” Logan yelled, seizing him by the shirt and pulling him flush against him so that he could sink his claws into the approaching man behind him, gutting him quickly and efficiently before moving onto the next one.

                Scott followed Logan’s lead, allowing the seasoned fighter to protect him for a moment or two while he got his bearings. But he could tell that Wolverine was off his game, tiring more quickly than usual. And that gave Scott a unique opportunity.

                The black clothed hunters seemed to keep pouring out of every shadow and crevice of the simulated world, and Logan kept going wave after wave, cutting them down. He took out a large group by sinking his claws into the gas tank of a nearby truck, allowing gasoline to pour out freely, before creating a spark with his claws that set the whole thing up in flames.

                The resulting explosion took out about twenty or so of their adversaries, but blew Scott and Logan back several feet, skidding across the pavement. Scott rolled to his feet, shaking off the shock of the explosion and looked to Wolverine, who was recovering much slower; seeming to have taken more of the blast than he realized.

                “Logan?!”

                The black haired man lifted his head and then howled as a lone enemy caught him in the side with a throwing star. Logan snarled and plucked the weapon from the wound, but another was already coming, this one nicking his arm. He growled again and tried to work his way to his feet, but Scott was suddenly in front of him, leveling not only the attacker, but the whole side of the storefront where he’d been hiding.

                He opened his optic blast wide enough that it created a deep creator, separating them from the rest of the re-spawning enemies and creating a rather effective firewall that none seemed to be able to cross.

                _“Enemy threat eliminated. Program completed?”_

“Program pause,” Scott answered. The world around them froze, as the simulation timed out. Scott turned and bent beside Wolverine, offering him his hand. “You okay?”

                Logan brushed himself off, ignoring the man’s hand. “I’m fine. I didn’t need your help.”

                Scott sighed; “You’re welcome.”

                Logan rolled his eyes, looking around at the ruined simulation of the Tokyo street. “Guess you were right…I have been letting myself slip. This should have been a cake walk.”

                His teammate nodded; “Well, I’m glad to see you in here again, if that means anything to you. But don’t try to push yourself so hard all at once. You’ll just get frustrated.” He expected Logan to retort with his usual smart assed reply, but the feral merely nodded silently.

                “I’m sorry I came down on you so hard back there. I just…felt _jealous_ I guess.”

                “Jesus Christ, Scooter,” Logan sighed, scrubbing his face tiredly.

                Scott held up his hand; “No, hear me out,” he amended, “ Ever since Hank left you’ve been avoiding everyone, but especially _me_. And I know…I know you have your reasons for that. But I hate the idea of being… _nothing_ to you. I’d rather be hated than be _nothing._ ”

                Logan raised an eyebrow, unsure what to say. After what had happened between them and the trouble it had caused, Logan frankly didn’t _trust_ himself around Scott, or Jean. It seemed like both of them were existing merely to be temptations, and dealing with them on a daily basis was taxing. Without Hank to provide a buffer…it was unbearable.

                “You’ll never be ‘nothing’ to me, Scott,” he answered at length. “Not after the unholy mess we caused.” He looked around the damage, remembering when Cyclops had turned that same deadly power on him.

                “I want to move past that,” Scott insisted. “You’re here to stay and so am I. So we have to find a way to live with each other.”

                Logan grunted and Scott moved in closer. “I wish you had come to me after Hank left. You didn’t have to be so alone.” He put his hand on Logan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. The feral cocked his head, studying him for a moment.

                “So when ya gonna tell Jeanie the weddin’s off?”

                Scott blinked behind his visor. “What are you talking about?”

                Logan shook his head knowingly; “Yer still doin’ it, Summers. Yer still tryin’ to have it both ways. It ain’t gonna work, I already told ya that. So put it out of yer head.” He started to leave, but then Scott spoke up again.

                “Danger Room; run practice simulation 45.”

                _“Simulation initiating. Training sequence 45 commencing.”_

                The environment around them changed from the decimated Tokyo street to a lush green forest. The two were standing on a wooden foot bridge over a rushing river. Logan blinked around, waiting for something to attack them, but nothing happened. Scott moved to the foot of the bridge where there were to large wooden staves. He picked up one that was marked with red tape and threw the other, which was marked with blue, to the other mutant.

                “No Ninjas here,” he said. “Just a good old fashioned sparing session. You game?”

                Logan tested he weight of the staff in his palm and scoffed quietly. “What the hell do I need this for?”

                “To keep me from doing this!” He swung at Logan expertly, forcing Wolverine to nervously lift the staff to defend himself as Cyclops advanced and swung again, and again, leaving Logan little opportunity to do anything but defend himself.

                “I take it you know this one pretty well?” he grunted.

                “It was one the first programs I ever worked with as a student,” Scott answered, continuing to drive Wolverine back along the bridge, striking again and again, allowing Logan no time to act offensively.

                He spun, catching Logan first across the staff, hard enough to make his hands shake, then spun again and struck him across the knuckles, then the knees and finally the back of the neck. Logan went down with a cry and fell into the water below with a splash and surfaced a second later gasping.

                “Idiot! I can’t fuckin’ swim!”

                Scott looked down in surprise; “What?”

                Logan was bobbing in the water, struggling to keep his head up, looking extremely displeased. “Dammit, Scooter, if I drown in a fuckin’ fake river I’m gonna—“ he went under again, getting a mouthful of it before sinking even lower.

                Scott dove in after him, getting his arms under Logan and swimming with him onto the shore. The Danger Room, despite its virtual capabilities, was also equipped with real elements, and the water was one of them, kept in a small reservoir below the floor.

                Logan coughed and sputtered on the bank, heaving for breath for a moment as Scott crouched on top of him, patting his back. “You okay?”

                “Why was that so fucking real?” Wolverine wheezed, lying there exhausted beneath him, wet and shivering faintly.

                “It _was_ real,” Scott admitted sheepishly, “The Danger Room has real water, its supposed to enhance things. I didn’t know you couldn’t….”

                Logan waved him off, “S’fine. How could ya know, right?” he muttered, still coughing. “Metal skeleton doesn’t exactly make me very _buoyant_.” He frowned grumpily, lying there in the grass and dirt. Scott was still crouched over him, practically lying on top of him. But his close proximity warmed Wolverine’s chilled skin, making it harder to drive the man off.

Scott continued to stroke his back for a moment more, but then he leaned a little lower, hands moving up Logan’s shoulders and down his arms until his hands circled the feral’s wrists. He felt Scott’s lips on the back of his neck and gave a little gasp of surprise, a little jolt rippling through him. Scott squeezed his wrists lightly in return, holding him in place.

                “Shh,” the taller man quieted. “It’s fine, I’ve got you. It’s just the two of us now.”

                Logan frowned, clearly thinking this was a terrible idea. But Scott was so close and so warm, and he couldn’t help but sigh at the way he ghosted his lips over Logan’s skin, teasing and enticing.

The taller man pressed his body close, enveloping Logan as entirely as he could. He kept waiting for a roar, for a flash of claws and curse and for Wolverine to throw him back. But, though Logan was very tense beneath him, he seemed to be willing to allow this. At least for now.

“Knock it off,” Logan grunted, somewhat unconvincingly.

Scott smirked and nipped at his earlobe, “You can throw me off anytime you know.” He ground against Logan’s backside, expecting the man to kick him or otherwise reject him, but instead Logan emitted a small, begrudging moan of pleasure.

Scott slid one of his hands back up Logan’s arm and moved it beneath him, pushing away the wet fabric of his clothing to get at more of his skin. Logan helped him shrug off his wet shirt, discarding it with a wet flop across the grass. Cyclops ran his hands hungrily across Wolverine’s skin and Logan grunted softly in approval when he scraped his nails lightly down the center of his torso, stopping just above the dip of his naval.

All the while Scott kept his mouth busy at the nape of Logan’s neck and shoulders, seeming to have found a small sweet spot along his left side that made the feral groan softly whenever it was touched and rock back against him in approval.

Summers could already feel the rise in his body heat and see the flush of blood in his skin as the man below him became more aroused. Logan was giving over to him in a manner he hadn’t at all expected, and this new feeling of dominance was drawing his pent up desires into a frenzy. This was a side of Logan he hadn’t experienced, and certainly one he hadn’t expected. He had no idea the big, brutish feral could be so…compliant.

He decided to press his advantage while it lasted, throwing all caution and sense to the wind. He sunk his teeth into Logan’s shoulder, earning a growl of pleasure from the shorter man and let his hand slide down his abdomen to reach the heated place between his thighs that was straining against the fabric of his jeans. Scott grabbed him possessively and squeezed, until Logan moaned again.

“Oh God, Logan, I _missed_ you…” He pulled the man’s fly open and yanked the damp material down his thighs slightly to give him more access to the heated skin underneath. Logan was digging his hands into the ground, panting and growling underneath him, rubbing back against him like an animal in heat. Scott was almost certain he was dreaming this; there was no way Wolverine was allowing this…

He wrapped his fingers around Logan’s thick cock and stroked him slowly.

“Oh Goddamn, Summers…” the black haired man whimpered, glancing back at him from his bent position, eyes dark and hooded. Just seeing that expression on Logan’s face nearly sent Scott over the edge.

He stroked the man slowly, teasingly as he continued to lick and bite down his back, leaving little abrasions and bruises that faded seconds after they were created. He lamented not trying this sooner, not taking the initiative and pushing Hank out of the picture. He could have had this all along if he had just been more brazen.

Scott decided that one good turn deserved another, and moved his other hand around to Logan’s backside, letting his palm glide over the curve of the man’s ass before moving inward, touching him in the same manner that Logan had in their last encounter.

But rather than earning another whimper of guilty pleasure from the man, the feral suddenly tensed like a trip wire, muscles clenched, his head suddenly snapping up, jerking away from Scott’s touch.

“What are you--?”

Scott was lost in the moment. He dropped down on Wolverine, grabbing his wrists and flipping him completely over into his back, pushing his knee between the man’s thighs possessively, grinning down at him. “Giving you what you want,” he answered huskily, trying to reach between his legs again, using his knee to wedge Logan’s legs apart. “What we _both_ want…”

“Get off!” Logan barked, twisting away from him. Scott misread the intensity of his voice, ignoring the warnings signs that Logan was no longer accepting of his touch. Scott had crossed an invisible line and was completely unaware of it.

The taller man twisted his wrist, almost painfully and forced Logan’s legs to open a little further, thinking he wanted Scott to work for it. “Stop playing hard to get, let me—“

Logan surged forward then, fist flying, and struck the man right in the groin. Scott stuttered on a gasp of pain and fell back, at once rolling into a ball, pain surging from his groin up through his abdomen and down into his legs, making it hard to even breathe.

“ _SHIT!_ What did you do _that_ for?!” he screeched.

Logan was already up, yanking his pants up and snarling down at the other man; “You god damn greedy little _asshole_! Was this the whole _fucking_ reason you came in here?! _To try to corner me?”_

“You—you _wanted_ it!”

“And then I _didn’t._ ” Logan answered. “Ya caught me in a moment of weakness, I admit. But it was going too far. You keep your damn hands to yerself!”

Scott managed to pull himself up, though he remained hunched and obviously pained, glaring up at Logan. “What are you waiting for, Wolverine? Hank to give up his job and come running back here? Don’t be so _fucking_ self-centered. That man is a genius, Xavier’s right hand. What makes you think you _matter_ to him?”

The words were terrible and hurtful and Scott was only just beginning to realize the gravity of them; hating himself for taking such a low blow out of wounded pride and frustration. He felt his stomach twist further when he saw that they hit home.

Logan growled at him, claws unsheathed, looking ready to hack him to pieces.

“What the hell is going on down here!?” Storm’s voice suddenly thundered. Both men froze, turning towards the source of the sound to see both she and Jean above them in the observation deck, both looking very startled.

Both men looked back at each other, and Scott searched Logan’s face for some assurance that he would maintain their cover, knowing what was at stake if he didn’t. But Logan’s expression gave him no such assurance.

“We’re fine,” he grunted back up to them. “Just a little too in the moment. Right, Wolverine?”

Logan did not answer.

A moment later the program terminated itself as both women entered the room, trotting towards them with Storm in the forefront. “Logan, claws away.” She commanded.

For a moment Logan did not move, still glaring at Scott as Jean came to Scott’s side, seeing that he was obviously injured. Storm put her hand on his shoulder then, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Logan; it’s alright.”

The feral mutant turned with a grunt, retracting his weapons and stalked towards the exit. Storm gave Jean a careful glance before following him.

She chased Logan, calling after him repeatedly before finally stopping to create a suction of air that pulled him back towards her. The feral reflexively struck out at her at being forced back against his will, but she caught his hands.

“Take a breath,” she commanded in that resounding voice of hers, “and look around you. No one here is against you. It’s just the two of us now…do you understand?”

She kept her eyes on him, waiting for whatever he might do next, whether it be fight or flight, hoping her words would keep from descending into that primal state. She watched some of the anger drain out of his features, his brow soften, the snarl gone from his lips as he stared at her.

Neither spoke for a moment, and then Logan bowed his head to her. “I’m fine, Storm. I’m in control. Ain’t gonna hurt no one.”

She nodded. “I was never worried about that, my brother.” She amended. “Are you alright?”

Wolverine refused to look at her, glaring at the floor. “Fine.”

“Perhaps this is something we should speak to Xavier about.”

Logan waved her off, turning away from her and starting off down the hall again. “I don’t need Chuck’s help to deal with a punk like Cyclops. Don’t need yours either.”

She sighed after him, unsure what to do. Clearly she was never going to reach Logan in this manner…she would have to try another approach.

 

 

**


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

                Logan was sprawled across his bed like an old hound dog, staring at the television set as droned on and on across from him. He stared at it with glazed eyes, tired and unseeing, his head full of anger and regret and a gnawing need for closeness tearing at his guts. The only remedy for this emptiness seemed to be self-medicating with liquor and sleep. But each time he woke he only felt worse. He considered getting on his bike and leaving; maybe heading out to D.C.

                But what would that say about him, showing up drunk at Hank’s door? Nothing good, certainly, and Logan was determined not to let his only friend see him that way. Reasons would come and go for Hank to turn his back on him, they always did; Logan wasn’t going to hasten the process if he could help it. At least this way he could keep the man as a friend. That would have to be enough.

                Sometime after dark, there came a knock upon the door that stirred him from his stupor and made him growl and grunt. “Go away,” he muttered, throwing an empty beer can at the door. It clinked and thudded against the wood and clattered away. The person on the other side paused a moment, then cautiously tried the knob. “Logan? It’s Ororo,”

                Logan sat up, blinking in confusion at the announcement. He slid off the bed and padded towards the door, undoing the lock and peering through the crack; “What is it?”

                She peered down at him through the thin slit between the door and wall and smirked; “Turning in for the night already? And here I thought you were more nocturnal in nature.” She smirked, leaning against the wall.

                Wolverine stared at her, opening the door a little wider to see her better. Her appearance had changed somewhat drastically. He was used to seeing Storm looking polished and professional, never a hair out of place, with an air of elegance many women attempted but few succeeded in. But tonight, she had let her hair down.

                Her snow white hair was spiked and feathered into a narrow mohawk, the longest pieces dripping over her shoulder like a little pool of silver white that stood out starkly against the contrast of her dark skin and clothing. Tonight she wore leather; a black sleeveless studded vest over a short yellow crop top that clearly showed her tight stomach. She wore black jeans that hugged very curve and disappeared almost seamlessly into knee high black leather boots with a three inch heel, making the tall woman stand even taller.

                Wolverine took a minute, drinking in the view and inhaled slowly. “You look… _different_.” He mumbled.

                She grinned, still leaning there, chewing on the edge of deep red lip, looking down at him expectantly. “Is that a good thing?” she asked coyly, though she already knew the answer from the way the man was staring at her, and yet trying _not_ to stare.

                His eyes met hers; “It’s _very_ good.” He answered, relaxing a little and managing to smile up at her. “You got a hot date?”

                “Not yet. Just heading out for the night. Come with me.”

                It was a statement, not a question, one that made Logan raise a dark brow curiously. “The club scene ain’t my scene, darlin’. Sorry.”

                “I’m not going clubbing. Just to a little dive I know just outside town.”

                “I don’t do dive bars.” He lied.

                “What _do_ you do, then?” she asked, moving a little further into the doorway. He blinked at her, almost amused.

                “Some special reason you want _me_ to come along?”

                “You’re my friend, and cheap beer always tastes better with good company.” She steppe d into his room and grabbed his leather jacket off the back of the chair where he’d thrown it and tossed it to him. “Get dressed. I’ll wait.”

                Logan admired her confidence in the matter, and decided that a cold beer sounded fairly decent right now. Especially since he’d worked his way through his own supply a few hours ago. “What the hell?” he shrugged.

 

 

**

 

                Thirty minutes later found the two mutants pulling into the parking lot of a small rowdy bar just off the highway. The kind with bright neon signs outside the dark, creepy lot where groups of drunken loiters gathered before stumbling into their pick-ups and second-hand cars to brave the streets back home for the night. There was a row of motorcycles near the side entrance, and both of them took note of the symbols that adorned all twelve, quickly realizing they were dealing with a gang.

                “This place looks like a heap of trouble,” Logan noted as they stepped inside the smoke filled room filled with loud rock music, cluttered with patrons that looked like they were either fresh out of jail, or about to head back, most drinking heavily and laughing raucously as they pinched and fondled the women that hung on their arms and straddled their laps. “You come here often?” he asked, raising a brow at her again.

                Storm just rolled her shoulders. “It’s under new management I guess.”

                Logan chuckled softly to himself as they made their way through the crowd towards the bar and sat down. The bar tender looked them over for a second, sizing them up, before speaking; “What will it be?”

                “Do you carry anything imported?” Storm asked, flatly, seriously, keeping her eyes locked with the bar tenders.

                He smirked at her requests, “Naw, sweetheart. Could I interest you in—“

                “We’ll have whatever’s cold and on tap.” Logan cut in gruffly, shoving some bills at the man. He scooped up the money and grabbed two glasses from beneath the bar, filling them to brim with a nice thick head of foam and sat them in front of them. “Enjoy.”

                Storm studied hers for a moment before glancing at Wolverine, “You didn’t want to hear what he was suggesting?”

                “It wasn’t going to be anything you wanted.” Logan answered, “The guy was waiting to make a pass, and as much as I’d enjoy watching you fry ‘im with one of your lightning bolts for talking about your breasts, right now, I just want a drink.”

                She nodded thoughtfully, and lifted her glass, taking a swallow or two before nodding; “It’s cold. And it doesn’t taste like piss. Too much hops for my taste though.” She answered.

                Logan nodded, took another pull and sighed; “So, lets get to the chase then, shall we?”

                She raised a delicate brow. “Hmm?”

                “This is the part where you tell me to open up about my feelings, and to try working together with Scott—“

                “Logan, Scott’s an asshole.” She cut in quickly.

                Logan turned to look at her fully, stunned not only by her bluntness, but by the casual tone of it, as if this was simple fact. “Thought he was your pal?”

                “Scott is like a little brother to me; which is probably why it’s so easy for me to see when he’s doing something he shouldn’t and call him on it.” She took another drink and watched him out of the corner of her eye; “I’ve noticed a change in your dynamic ever since that fight you two had. I never understood its reason, I always assumed it was over Jean.”

                “Something like that.” Logan muttered into his glass.

                “But I think it’s more than just her. You three have a very strange entanglement, and I can’t say that it’s done any of you any favors. But you don’t seem to chase Jean the way that Scott chases you.”

                Logan looked like he might get up and leave her there, so she reached over and put her hand over his gently. “Things have been harder since Henry left. Haven’t they?”

                The dark haired man stared at her hand quietly for a moment. “Hank’s a good friend. I think we all miss ‘im.”

                “Did you love him?”

                Logan’s eyes narrowed at her; “What’s it to ya, darlin’?” he asked thickly.

                She smoothed her thumb over his knuckles in what she hoped was a calming gesture; “You two were good for each other. You were happier when he was here, friendlier certainly. He must have been the first in a long time to make you miss him so.” She squeezed his hand lightly, “But Hank isn’t the only one here who cares about you, Logan.”

                He glanced down at her hand and then back at her face, studying her expression, all his senses firing, trying to detect some crack in her resolve, some hint of deception. But there was none, no trace of it.

                “Ro’, I appreciate what yer tryin’ to do. Can’t say I’m not flattered.”

                “But…” she coaxed, leaning towards him. “I’m not your type?”

                He took another drink, keeping his eyes on her as he did, glancing her up and down and when he had finished the glass he licked his lips, “I’m not _yours._ Women like you don’t go for guys like me.”

                She let out a little mocking laugh at the idea, folding her arms in front of her as she leaned on the bar, “ And where is that written?” she asked coyly, a glint of mischief in her blue-grey eyes.

                Logan liked that spark in her eyes, liked knowing there was something deeper than her perfect regal façade. But he had already taken too many chances; he wasn’t sure he could afford another one.

                “I happen to find you _very_ attractive, not to mention refreshing. You don’t waste time trying to impress anyone, and you’re honest with people; even though some might find it a bit intense and off-putting. There’s not a hint of pretense about you at all; which is why I believe the students are so taken with you. They always ask me what class _you’ll_ be teaching next semester.”

                Logan chuckled at the idea. “They don’t know what they’re asking for.”

                “No, I doubt they do. But the point is, Logan, however much you want to project this _lone wolf_ persona of yours, there’s a warmth to you that’s undeniable. Some of us find that very appealing.” She reached out and stroked the thick mat of hair that edged his jaw, “Not to mention you somehow manage to make muttonchops look _good._ ”

                Logan laughed again and she thrilled at the warm, deep rumbling sound in created. He seemed almost embarrassed then at the way she gazed at him with such warmth and intensity and looked away, pushing out his glass for the bartender to replace it with another full one.

                She sat up again and finished her own, waiting for her refill and added; “I hope I haven’t come on too strongly.”

                “I like strong women.”

                “What makes you so interested in Jean then?” she asked, picking up her glass and then flushed darkly, realizing she’d spoken that aloud. Beside her Logan let out a big, deep belly laugh, shaking his head.

                _“Wow_ ,” he laughed. “What’d she do to piss you off?”

                Storm laughed a bit more herself, relieved that he hadn’t taken offense. “I think I spoke out of turn, and admittedly, out of a bit of jealousy of my own. You seem so taken with her when you first arrived.”

                “Yeah…she reminds me of someone. Someone I lost or forgot…it’s complicated. But it’s not the kind of attraction everyone thinks it is.”

                “So you do prefer men then?”

                “I like what I like.” Logan answered slyly. “And I gotta admit, Ro, I’m liking you a little more every second. Do the other X-Men know this side of you?”

                She shrugged; “I’ve always been very open with Henry, and Jean is one of my closet friends. Unfortunately we don’t share many of the same interests.”

                “I can tell.” Logan said, glancing at her glass. “Yer gonna drink me under the table at this rate, darlin’.”

                She smiled mischievously again; “I wouldn’t mind trying; though I imagine it wouldn’t end well for me. I’ve seen how many cases of beer you’ve gone through in the last few weeks.”

                His expression became more somber once more, and she quickly glanced behind him, noting that the pool table had opened up. She slid off her seat and moved towards it, “Come on, play a round with me.”

                “Not the askin’ type are you?” He chuckled, sliding off his own stool and following after her. They grabbed cues from the wall and circled the table, racking up the balls and ignoring the side-long stares from the other patrons as they did. Logan could smell their aggression, their apprehension and their lust, though for the moment he ignored it and kept his focus on the woman in front of him.

                She went first, breaking the balls and sending them scattering, knocking two in on the first hit. She stepped back, allowing him to move in to make his shot. The balls clacked and rolled again, and Logan matched her score quickly.

                “So, you’re not into Jean _that_ _way_. Where does that leave Scott?”

                Logan frowned, “As a perpetual pain in my ass.”

                She laughed again. “Well, that’s to be expected. But what I saw from the observation deck tells me that _something_ is there. Unless…”

                “Yer boy Summers needs to get his shit together. He can’t decide between being an engaged straight man and horny gay man who likes random hook ups. I w _as_ hoping he’d get over it, realize what he stands to lose and move on. But looks like he was just waiting for a chance to move in on me again.” He took another shot and glanced up at her, “Not that I’m supposed to be telling ya any of this, of course.”

                “Of course.” She nodded knowingly, tapping her head in understanding.

                “And Hank…what was that?”

                “Why ya so interested?” he smirked.

                She sighed and took another shot, missing. “Because I’m trying to understand your boundaries. Are you in a relationship with Hank? We all assumed you were, you spent nearly every other night together, rarely slept in your own room…” she blushed again, realizing she was sounding a little too much like Scott. “It was nice to see you both so happy. Hank’s always so self-conscious and reserved, but you brought out another side of him.”

                Logan focused on the table, sending the balls scattering again, and knocked three in this time. “Hank and I spoke on the phone a few days ago…there’s a woman, a campaign worker. They’re dating.”

                Storm stilled, suddenly serious. “Logan, I’m sorry.”

                He shook his head; “Don’t be. Hank and I were a casual thing, friends with benefits. It was good give and take, but…things change. And I’m happy for him.” He waited for her to take her turn, but she didn’t move.

                He sighed and rolled his eyes, reaching for his beer. “Don’t. Don’t do the thing.”

                “What thing?”

                “The ‘look at the poor dumped puppy’ thing _._ I can _smell_ pity and I don’t care for it. So knock it off and take yer shot.” He drained his glass again and set it aside.

                She took a moment before sauntering over to him, looking at her options before letting her eyes wander back to the short, bristly man beside her. “Seems like there must be some better way to appease your loneliness other than letting Scott and Jean play tug of war with you.” She leaned down close to him, her breath ghosting over his ear; “Spending more time with me, for example.”

                Logan’s cue slipped in his fingers and scuffed the table, sending the eight ball popping up and over the edge, rolling onto the floor with a loud clatter.

                Several people turned to look at the sound, including one particularly large man, bearing several tasteless tattoos and a shaven head. As he turned to pick up the ball, Logan saw that his shirt read in hand painted letters “Die Muties”.

                Wolverine sighed deeply, looking up into Storm’s face, putting his arm around her back. “Darlin’, why don’t we continue this conversation another time? I have a feeling we’re about to get interrupted.”

                The man made his way over to them, snarling at Logan. “You some kind of idiot, shorty? Can’t even keep a ball on a table?” he spat.

                Logan’s nose crinkled at the man’s breath and he leaned idly on his cue stick, lazily sizing up the man. “Sorry ‘bout that, bub. Accidents happen.”

                “Yeah, well an accident is about to happen to yer face if you don’t watch it. Who let you freaks in here anyway?”

                “Leave ‘em alone, Roy.” The man behind the bar called, “They’re paying customers! Unlike you and your boys…”

                The man named Roy spat at him then looked a little closer at the pair, his eyes moving from Logan to Storm, lingering for a moment on her face and then longer on her breasts and then back again; “Hey…ain’t I seen you somewhere before?”

                “I doubt it.” Ororo replied coldly. “I don’t tend to associate myself with drunken white-supremacist trash.”

                There was a collective gasp from the crowd as the man named Roy moved closer. Logan snarled, but Storm held him back.

                “Bitch, what did you say to me?”

                “The Skin Head hair cut? The Swastika tattoo? I especially like the snake eating the skull. How about your shirt?” She reached over and plucked at it so she could read the crude righting. “ ‘Die Muties’. You’re not exactly out to make friends are you?”

                He moved to grab her, but she caught his hand, twisted it with an audible crack and bent him over the table, dragging his arm behind him and pulling it taught. The man below her bellowed and squirmed in pain.

                “That was a very stupid thing to do,” she warned. “Now either you back off and leave me and my friend alone or—“

                Someone snuck up behind her with a knife, yanking her back with the blade pressed to her long neck. “Let him go bitch!”

                Storm only grinned. “Oh, hell…now you’ve gone and pissed him.”

                Before the man could ask what she meant, Logan had stabbed him in the arm, forcing him to drop the blade that rested against her throat. As he buckled in pain, the shorter man grabbed him by the same arm and flipped him over the table, sending him crashing to the floor.

                Others were rushing forward now, all armed with weapons that ranged knives to crowbars. Logan leapt onto the table in plain view of all of them and unsheathed his claws. Needless to say, it slowed their decent slightly.

                “Next dance is mine, Ro.” He grinned at her.

                “Fine, but I’m leading.”

 

**

 

                The police sirens were fading in the distance behind them as they rode back towards the mansion. Storm was wrapped around him from behind, arms curled around his thick torso, still laughing. They both reeked of beer and sweat, sprinkled with blood.

                They’d left the bar in tact…well, mostly.

                “Don’t suppose we better take the front door at this hour, not lookin’ like this.” Logan sighed a little while later as they pulled up the long drive to Xavier’s. He parked the bike along a side lot next to an equipment shed by the lake house, knowing it would be undisturbed there until morning.

                Storm nodded behind him, “No, you’re right. But I have another way.” She stepped off the bike and held out her arms.

                Logan blinked at her curiously.

                “Oh come on,” she grinned, “don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights. I’m an excellent flyer.”

                “I’m _heavy_ , darlin’. Don’t think your little wind currents could lift 300 lbs of metal bone.” He grunted, sliding off the seat.

                She rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm, pulling him to her and holding on tightly as a whirlwind of air lifted them off the ground. Logan grabbed hold of her for dear life in spite of himself, closing his eyes against the gusting winds, until she put them both safely back on their feet on the edge of her roof top balcony.

                “You can let go now, Logan.” She grinned. She looked down delightedly, noting that the smaller man’s head came just above her breasts, so that he couldn’t help but admire them. Logan pulled away quickly, nervously scratching the back of his hair.

                “That was a dirty trick,” he muttered, not really angry.

                “So you really are afraid of heights.”

                “Not heights, _flyin’._ Ain’t natural; at least for guys like me.” He looked over the wrought iron fencing to the roof and ground below, realizing he’d never been in this part of the house before. The view was stunning, especially on such a clear night like this one. “What’s this place?”

                “My rooms,” Storm answered, drawing his attention back to the wide balcony and the little garden contained within. Logan admired the careful cultivation and sculpting of it, noting that nothing looked overgrown or withered.

                “You like plants.”

                “Gardening is very relaxing to me.” She answered, sitting herself down on the slant of the roof beyond the railing and motioning him to do the same. He climbed out next to her and settled, crouched beside her before glancing over and taking her hand, turning it over in his. “How’s those knuckles?”

                They were bruised, swollen and still a bit bloody. “They’ll heal.”

                He nodded, kissing them lightly. “You sure can throw a punch, woman. Not to mention _take_ one.” He looked at her face, noting the slight bruise that was growing on her cheek bone.

                “You seem so surprised; but we’ve fought together before.”

                “Not like that. I’ve seen ya use yer powers, sure, and it’s a sight…but this was down and dirty, hand-to-hand. Didn’t expect that . Where’d ya learn to fight like that?”

                She rested back on her elbows, looking up at the sky, hair waving faintly in the breeze. It had lost a little bit of its structure now, wilting a little after their fight, little strands of white falling across her forehead and in her eyes. “I lost my parents when I was eight years old; after that I survived as a pick-pocket on the streets of Cairo, until I was about seventeen. You pick up a few things.”

                Logan nodded thoughtfully; “Sounds rough. And then what?” he asked, not pausing to give her the usual sentimental pity party everyone else did.

                She shrugged her shoulders; “Then I wandered for awhile…discovered my powers, and went a little crazy. When Xavier found me, I had a tribe of natives believing I was a real live _goddess._ ”

                Wolverine grinned. “What makes you think you ain’t, darlin’?”

                She pulled herself up, looking at him a bit more closely. “Logan, I’m glad you’re here. Whatever has happened with Scott, and Hank…I want you to know you have people here who want you around; not because of what you can do, or what you can do for them. But just because you’re a good person. And you deserve a place to call home. Do you understand what I mean?”

                The dark haired man nodded, leaning a little closer as well. “You’re sweet to say so, darlin’. But, I’ve been thinkin’ of movin’ on. I ain’t gonna be nothing but trouble for you and Chuck and everyone. I’m not mentor material, and I sure as hell ain’t a good teammate.”

                “So you’re just going to wander from town to town, righting wrongs and living life like a lonesome cowboy?” she asked.

                He stared out into the dark, chewing on the thought. “Maybe so.”

                She put her arm around him and pulled him close, kissing his cheek. “Give me some time to change your mind. Two days. After that…it’s up to you.”

                He scoffed, shaking out the lingering soreness in his knuckles; “What exactly do you think is gonna change in two--?”

                She leaned in, catching his face with her hand and kissed him, warmly and heatedly, like she had been thinking about it for ages but waiting for just the right moment. It was the kind of kiss that made you warm down to your toes and finger tips, made your head fuzzy and breath shaky afterwards.

                When she finally pulled back, Logan was left without words, just staring at her. And she stared right back.

                Ororo lifted herself from the roof, taking Wolverine’s thick hand in hers and guided him back along the balcony to the French doors that lead inside her attic room. It was dark and warm and smelled like the woods after a thunderstorm.

                The attic room was large, spacious, enough to serve as a small apartment, much like Hank’s. But it was much cozier, more lived in, filled with dozens of little trinkets and photographs, paintings and photographs of Ororo, the rest of the team and various students. Everything was eclectic, and slightly wild, but the chaos of it was all deliberate and well maintained. It made Logan want to delve deeper into the little cloister of her world.

                She left him standing in the space between her living area and the half-obscured nook of her bedroom, slipping out of her clothes and tossing them on a chair next to the bed. For a moment Logan tensed, but she glanced over her shoulder at him; “I’m going to grab a shower. Why don’t you take off those bloody clothes and relax. I have a robe you can borrow.”

                She slipped on one of her own before reaching to grab one off a wall hook and tossed it at him. He noted immediately it was much too big for her, obviously a man’s, and that it had the Xavier’s School emblem on it. Logan sniffed it curiously and blinked, recognizing the scent at once as Hank’s.

                He looked to Ororo for explanation, but the woman had vanished into a side door, where he heard the water running.

                He considered slipping away then back to his own room; but you don’t just run out on a woman after a kiss like that. He slid out of his dirty leather coat, letting it fall to the floor, and let his t-shirt follow, noting that it had sizable tears in the back from multiple stabbings that rendered it only good for rags. Too bad, it was one of his nicer ones.

                He slid off his boots next and his belt, but hesitated at his jeans. He wondered again he wasn’t falling into the same old pattern of bad behavior, looking for distractions rather than real companions and endlessly choosing the wrong partners.

                He sat on the edge of her bed, Hank’s robe in hand, staring out at the little apartment and listening to the sounds of the night outside the open windows. He had to admit, as miserable as he’d been in the last few weeks, the idea of running again, starting all over a _gain_ felt exhausting to him. Maybe he was getting old, maybe he was getting soft, he wasn’t sure. He thought about the circumstances that had brought him here, and young Jubilee, who had clung to him so fiercely, like he was the only thing in the world keeping her from vanishing completely. She still seemed to cling to him, even now that she had adjusted to the school. It was nice to be needed, to be _wanted_.

                But of course, his mind wandered back to Jean and the strange feelings she stirred up in his guts that made him feel like a lost little boy, and the way she mistook every glance at her for lust. And Scott…

                His head was throbbing just _thinking_ about Scott.

                He heard the door then and looked up to see Ororo emerge from the bathroom, wearing a loose fitting Rolling Stones t-shirt and a pair of boxers, her hair lying flat against the side of her head in long silver tendrils. She smiled at him. “You look exhausted. Let’s go to bed.”

                As she slipped onto the mattress he stood, making her look up again curiously. “I’ll take the couch.”

                She reached out and caught his hand lightly, tugging him back. “My bed is big enough for two.”

                The man looked at her apprehensively, those dark blue eyes watching her with desire, but afraid to make a move, certain he would fumble or fall into another trap.

                But she was there to pull him in, put her arms around him and draw him down into the blankets, secure and safe, promising nothing more than that. _Needing_ nothing more than that. He was surprised to stay the least, and for long moments lay there, paralyzed by the fear that he would do something wrong.

                But she didn’t let go, and her hands worked over his back and shoulders, slowly easing the tension out of them until he became limp and pliable, nuzzling against her, his face in the crook of her neck and his arms around her waist. She almost thought she heard him purr at one point.

                “You got magic fingers, darlin’,” he mumbled against her skin, eyes heavy, focus slipping. She kissed forehead and dragged her blankets around the two of them, content to feel him next to her for the night.

                “Get some sleep, love. Everything else can wait till morning.”

                He nodded faintly, no longer having the will to extract himself from her and finally allowed himself to succumb to the sleep that had eluded him for days now. Ororo watched him for awhile, listening to the sound of rain as it rolled in over the grounds, and the faint drumming it created as it thudded against the windows and doors.

                As she cradled the man against her, studying the rhythm of his breathing, the smell and texture of his hair, and listening to beat of his heart; he considered what his thoughts might be. She had stepped in and eased his loneliness, if only for a night. But she wondered if he had any idea how much he had eased her own.

                Logan wasn’t the only one left adrift in Beasts’ absence; after all. Storm had lost her closest companion when the man left for Washington. Yes, she had Jean, but it wasn’t the same. Since Logan had entered the picture, Jean had changed. She was drawn to the man, as much as he had seemed drawn to her, and she seemed constantly caught between her fear of him and her fascination for the way he looked at her.

                Storm couldn’t blame her; Logan looked at Jean like she was some Angel that walked the Earth, some ethereal being who’s grace he’d longed to know for himself. But after tonight…maybe those looks meant something else. Rather than seeing them as something that came from love, or lust, Ro started to realize that Jean represented something deeper to the man, something he wasn’t even able to define. She wondered how it was he viewed herself. Obviously as something unobtainable, someone who walked too far above him for to even fantasize about. The idea made her sad. Did Logan really think so little of himself?

                His affair with Scott was another matter, something she was still grappling to understand. Wolverine was impulsive, and seemed to bring out the same in others. She now had to count herself among those he’d ensnared with his wild charm. But she couldn’t make the same mistakes Scott did; she needed to be a friend first, and lover second, if at all.

                She desired the man; that she couldn’t deny. But Logan’s well-being needed to come before her carnal urges. She had no desire to bed the man once and then lose his trust and respect. She wanted something that would last, something she could savor and explore. She needed to be careful not to put him in the same position Scott had.

                He moaned in her arms, suddenly restless, brow furrowing and tried to pull away. Storm let go, startled by his sudden movement, fearing she’d caused him some sort of pain. “Logan?”

                The man was not awake, however. He flinched and growled, digging his hands into the bed sheets, whimpering in pain as he began to pant and perspire. Storm watched him nervously, all too familiar with the sort of night terrors that could possess a person in the middle of the night, and how the throes of their terror could translate into wild fits as they fought off unseen and imagined monsters.

                “Logan…Logan…” she spoke calmly, softly, keeping at his back to avoid his claws should they unsheathe themselves.

                The man below her moaned again, a sound that hitched and turned into a sharp cry of pain, followed by a roar and a scream. She got her arms around him, holding him close but not restraining him. “Logan, it’s a dream. It’s only a dream. Wake up.”

                Logan yelled again and contorted, thrashing against her, but she let her body bend with his, her eyes on his hands. The claws hadn’t shown themselves; not yet. “Whoever is hurting you, love, I won’t let them do it again. I’m here, come back to me. _Wake up_.”

                Wolverine came awake with shout, twisting upward and trashing as if he were trying to pull free of something that was weighing him down. Storm let him go, but rose with him, keeping close and watchful. The man sat there rasping for air, blinking in the dark, blue eyes wide and dilated. There was clap of thunder then, followed by bright flash of lightning that lit up the whole attic.

                Logan jolted, claws finally freeing themselves, leaping to the edge of the bed, crouched like a mountain lion, ready to pounce on some unseen dread. Storm hesitated, watching him with a faint lump of fear in her throat. Any sudden noise might cause the feral to turn and attack her in his presence state.

                Instead she staid very still, keeping her breathing even, and created a cool breeze that washed over his skin, faintly ruffling his hair. He turned on her with a snarl, still wide eyed and confused. She slowly eased herself back into the bed, rubbing the spot next to her.

                “It’s over now. Come back to bed, love.”

                He grunted at her, still coming down from that state of distress, his animal nature having usurped his human one for the moment. Although every part of him seemed tense and alert with fear, the woman found herself wondering how aware Logan really was at the moment; if the dream and his instincts weren’t acting of their own volition without his full consciousness.

                After another long moment of consideration, he started to move back towards her, crawling on hands and knees, slinking onto his belly until he collapsed, his head on her thigh and exhaled shakily, claws slowly receding into his skin.

                She propped herself up against the headboard, allowing him to lay fully in her lap and stroked his hair and the back of his neck to soothe him. He said nothing to her, only whimpering softly for a moment or two before slipping under again, having never been fully awake to begin with.

                Only once his breathing feel into that deep slow rhythm of deep sleep did Storm allow herself to take her own shaky breath, realizing there were tears in her eyes. Her heart ached for the man beneath her, only beginning to realize the kind of abuse he must have endured in his life to render him this way. Did the others have any idea? Did Hank? Or Charles for that matter?

                She bowed over him, kissing his face and nuzzling him, hoping to be of some small comfort to him. She watched him until the darkest hours of the night, but Logan didn’t stir again. The storm outside drug on for hours, until it finally blew itself out, leaving the sky a deep inky blue of predawn. Only when Ororo began to see the palest shimmers of light from the East did she finally give up her vigil and settle down beside Wolverine’s curled form again to rest as well.

 

**


	3. Chapter 3

 

**

                The sun had been up for hours before either of them stirred from their den. Logan woke first, his nose scenting the woman who was sleeping next to him before he became fully aware of her. Now as he opened his eyes, he laid very still, studying her curled figure next to his.

                Judging by the depth of her breaths and feel of her body heat, the woman was still deeply asleep. He inched a little closer to her, tucking loose pieces of her white hair that fell in her eyes back, and noted her hand was latched tightly onto his wrist.

                He blinked at this, noting that even in her sleep her fingers were grasped tightly to him, as if afraid to let go. His first fear was that he’d done something in his sleep to frighten or hurt her; but he didn’t smell any blood or any sign of injury on the woman.

                The feral lifted himself from the sheets and leaned over her, still concerned, only to have the woman’s arm come up and encircle his neck, drawing him down for a kiss. “You wouldn’t be thinking of trying to slip away, would you?” she asked, blinking up at him afterwards.

                He smirked and nuzzled her, “Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’. Just makin’ sure you were alright. I know I ain’t always the best bed partner.”

                She stretched underneath him, arching her back and teasing him by pressing her breasts up close to his face. He grunted playfully, leaning down to nip at her neck in response and she giggled. “You got a little restless,” she said casually, giving no hint that she had witnessed one of his night terrors, since he seemed to have no recollection of it. “Nothing too terrible.”

                He wasn’t sure he believed her; in fact he was almost certain he didn’t. But if she seemed willing to overlook it, than he supposed he could too. He glanced at the clock by her bed and cringed. _“Shit._ Late for class, darlin’.”

                Ro slid off the bed and stretched again; “It’s Saturday. Believe me, everyone else is just starting to crawl out of bed; except the students. They won’t be moving for another hour or so.” She moved around the room, closing the open windows against the morning glare, feeling the humidity of the air outside.

                She expected Logan to make some excuse and take his leave, but instead the shorter man stole up behind her and put his broad arms around her middle and hugged her close, nuzzling his nose between her shoulder blades, pressing little kisses there. Storm giggled in spite of herself.

                “Don’t know about you, but I could use a cup of joe. Care to join?”

                “I’d love to.”

                She turned, only to have him pull her in again and kiss her before tipping her over his shoulder and turning towards the door with her. She laughed, dangling over his back, pushing herself upright with her palms against his lower back.

                “Logan! What are you--?”

                “Faster this way.”

                “We could fly down…” she smirked.

                He chuckled and started to run; “Don’t even think about it!” He took the first steps in bounds and leaps, making her squeal and cackle in amusement. They passed several students, who blinked curiously as they passed, unsure whether or not they were seeing things.

                They passed Xavier himself in the first floor corridor. “Hey Chuck,” Logan waved as he passed, and Storm gave a little wave herself as they bounded past, watching as the Professor gave an amused little head tilt after them.

                The couple trotted into the kitchen, Storm finally managing to wriggle free of Wolverine’s grasp, both laughing and stumbled over to the counter for coffee. Both instinctually looked over to Hank’s accustomed place in the breakfast nook, and sighed a little at his glaring absence.

                Storm took the pot from it’s place and held it over Logan’s mug, then her own. “How do you like it?”

                Wolverine smirked, looking up at her, and she crinkled her nose, shaking her head and giving him a playful little punch in the arm; “Don’t you dare make that joke. It’s far too obvious.”

                They leaned back, looking over the empty kitchen, hearing the mansion slowly coming to life around them; awake with the sounds of groggy voices, buzzing music and television and arguments over shower rotation and lack of hot water.

                Storm glanced over at Logan, noting how relaxed he looked. It was a startling difference, compared to the last several weeks. But he caught her looking at him and she glanced away quickly. He slipped his arm around her waist again; “You look like I kept ya up, Ro. Told ya I shoulda taken the couch.”

                “Don’t tell women they look tired, they are well aware,” she answered, “and I would take a few less hours of sleep if it meant keeping you close.”

                Logan leaned in and kissed her shoulder, then her neck and Ro sighed in spite of herself, feeling a little warm current ripple through her at the contact, sliding her hand down his back and hovering right at the dip of his lower back, nails faintly scraping his skin.

                “Oh!”

                The soft exclamation made them both turn to see Jean enter the room, blinking in shock at both of them. The couple returned her gaze, mildly self-conscious at her obvious surprise. Logan dropped his eyes for a moment, but not his arm, keeping Ro close to him, while the woman beside him looked at her friend expectantly.

                “Morning, Jeanie.” Logan mumbled.

                The redhead nodded, eyes flickering from one figure to another for several seconds as she approached them, reaching her for own glass and pouring herself some juice. “Well, good morning to you. You both look…cozy.”

                She took a gulp of juice, her eyes moving now to Ororo’s with a silent question. The taller woman squared her shoulder, draping her arm around Logan’s shoulders, “Where’s Scott? Sleeping in today?”

                Jean nodded, “Yeah, he tossed and turned all night. Poor thing.” She noted. “He’s had a lot on his mind lately.” She looked at neither of them, but both tensed faintly. Ororo took the initiative then, looking from the other woman back to the man on her arm; “Breakfast; what would you like?”

                “Meat.”

                “Steak and eggs?”

                “You cook?” he asked, having almost forgotten about Jean completely as he watched the other woman make her way to the fridge and begin to root for ingredients. “Alittle. Nothing fancy.” She glanced over her shoulder; “So don’t expect me to be baking you pies, or anything like that.”

                Logan nodded, just smiling softly at her, like he couldn’t believe how simple it all was, how comfortable, or how easy. Had it _ever_ been this easy? Ro put him at ease in ways he didn’t know he could be, ways even Hank didn’t quite rival.

                She shoed him out of her way, moving to the stove, food in hand and he scurried away, moving to sit in an empty chair at the large community table that took up the better half of the room. He sipped his coffee in silence, letting his mind wander, until the redhead came to sit across from him.

                “You’re looking better, Logan.” She said, smiling at him over her bowl of fruit. “Like you finally got some sleep.”

                He nodded absently then lowered his eyes again; “Hope you ain’t too sore at me over Scooter,” he said. “That man of yours just seems to know all the wrong buttons to push with me.”

                “Scott means well. He’s worried about you; we all are, honestly.” She looked at him shyly, and Logan raised an eyebrow.

                “Why would you worry about me?”

                She reached across the table and brushed her hand over his. “You have more demons than most, Wolverine. That brief connection we had with your mind, your memories…I’ve never seen anyone who was so lost.”

                Logan looked at her hand for a moment, fighting the urge to hold it. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, Jean stirred something inside him that made him feel weak and desperate to please; but why? What was it about this woman that brought him to his knees again and again, despite all his better judgement?

                He looked up at, surprised to see how sweetly she was looking back at him. It was a look usually reserved for Scott; that sweetness and light. What had changed?

                With some effort, he pulled his hand free from hers, standing up. “I’m fine, Jeanie. You don’t have to worry about me.”

                He made his way over to Ororo, who had been watching them out of the corner of her eye and leaned up to draw her into a kiss that was somewhere between sweet and teasing. “Gonna take a shower. Be back in ten. Keep it warm for me?”

                She nodded and let him go, waiting until Logan had left the room before turning her eyes back to Jean.

                “Why is he always running away from me?” Jean asked, looking at her expectantly. Storm’s brow furrowed and she turned her back on her skillet, folding her arms.

                “Perhaps you’re sending mixed signals,” she began. “I admit, even _I_ ’ _m_ confused. Usually you cannot stress enough how Logan makes you uneasy; but today it’s as if you’re old lovers reunited.”

                Jean blinked at her. “What?”

                Storm moved towards her, caught between irritation and exasperation as she looked at one of her oldest and closest friends; “You need to think about how you approach him. He’s a feral, Jean, he senses things, things we aren’t usually aware of in the way we speak and act. He _knows_ you’re afraid of him, and at the same time you _want_ him. How is he supposed to react to that?”

                The other woman blinked back at her, not sure she understood where Ororo’s frustration was coming from. “I was simply trying to talk to Logan, as a _friend_. How is it any different than what you two were just doing?”

                Ororo leaned down, staring her in the face. “Are you serious right now? We _kissed_ , Jean. We are not just _friends._ I am pursuing a romantic relationship with the man.”

                Jean sipped her glass. “I thought Logan was into men.”

                Storm glared; “Then what’s your excuse?”

                Jean sighed and stood up, “Alright, clearly I’ve upset you. I didn’t mean to…to…” she searched for a word, looking frustrated and embarrassed and finally sighed bitterly and glared at the woman. “We’ve talked about this. You’re supposed to be my best friend, Ororo, why would you just…?” She bit her lip, still fumbling for words. “Logan’s everything Scott’s not. He’s dangerous, he’s wild, he’s _exciting._ Yes, I sometimes think about what it would be like…but it’s just fantasy. It doesn’t mean anything. And Logan doesn’t even _know._ ”

                Storm waited expectantly; “Jean, you’re engaged. You love Scott, don’t you?”

                “Of course.”

                “Wouldn’t it hurt him to know you keep thinking about Logan?”

                “Scott doesn’t know. It’s harmless. Everyone has a fantasy, Storm.” She leveled her eyes at her. “You’re obviously tapping into yours right now.”

                Ororo’s eyes darkened. “He’s not a conquest to me, not a _fantasy._ He’s a god damn _person_ Jean, though you seem to forget that.”

                “I’m not doing anything wrong. I’ve never—“

                “You have no idea the _effect_ you have on that man!” Storm found herself shouting, suddenly livid. “You think these ‘innocent’ little intrigues you have with him are coy, and flirtatious and cute but they are _not_ they are confusing and hurtful! That man has so damn little, and you’re _taunting_ him every single day, you and Scott, flaunting your picture perfect romance with Cyclops in his face, letting him know in every way that he’s good enough to _fuck_ but not good enough to _love_!”

                She turned on heel, back to the stove and slammed the pan with the half cooked food into the sink before turning off the burner. “I love you Jean, you’re like a sister to me. But this stops _now._ You need to take a look at yourself, and ask why it is you feel the need to chase Logan when Scott is right there. It’d do you both some good to actually sit and talk to each other, rather than pretend everything is fine just because that’s the way it always was.”

                She made towards the exit, leaving Jean blinking and quivering in shock behind her.

 

                Storm made her way to the first floor men’s locker room, where she assumed Logan was, darting inside the entrance and standing there before the row of shower stalls, searching the steam. Bobby, who was standing in front of the mirror, attempting to freeze his hair into the just the right position, jolted at her sudden appearance.

                “Storm! This is the _men’s_ room!” he cried.

                “Where’s Logan?” she asked firmly.

                Bobby nervously pointed to the second stall and watched as the tall woman strode past him and stepped up the curtain, yanking it open.

                Logan turned in surprise, dripping wet and completely naked. “Ro--!?”

                The woman grabbed him and pulled him forward, kissing him heatedly, and Logan blinked wide-eyed for a moment, then quickly yanked her in, falling against the wall with her. He pulled back from her long enough to grab the curtain and peek out, glaring at Bobby; “Make tracks, kid!”

                Bobby laughed in shock and hurriedly scurried out of the room, leaving them alone. Storm was at his neck and shoulders, licking, kissing, hands running up and down his wet skin in a desperate frenzy, trying to map out every inch with her fingers.

                It was amazing, intoxicating and dizzying, and Logan dragged her closer, pressing her body flush against him, feeling her wet clothes start to stick to her skin, bringing out the softness of her curves. He felt himself already beginning to stir, and he could sense that the woman in his arms was already very aroused. Part of him wanted to yank down her shorts and go at her there and then, but he stopped himself, panting with the effort and the heat.

                “Wait, darlin’, wait…” he mumbled, taking her face between his palms to keep her from trying to kiss him again, locking eyes with her. For a moment she looked startled, as if realizing she’d gone too far.

                “Let’s take this upstairs, huh? Where we won’t get interrupted. Mornin’ P.E.’s about to let out and…uh….”

                She started to laugh in spite of herself, pushing her hair back and nodded, “You’re right, of course,” she chuckled breathlessly. They stepped out together and Logan handed her his robe while he settled for a towel that did little to cover everything.

                They made their way to the entrance, peeking into the hall. Not a lot of activity at the moment, but Wolverine doubted he was going to make it up all those flights of stairs without someone seeing his goods.

                “Hate to say it, darlin’, but we might need to take the express route.” He grumbled, shrugging his shoulders, resigned. She smiled and picked him up, startling Logan with how easily she could.

                “I’ll be quick, close your eyes.”

                He grumbled something and winced as they suddenly took off through the air, rising hurriedly through the corridor and then directly upward through the stairwells until they came to the attic landing, where they rushed inside.

                They were barely in the door before the woman was on him again, Logan tugging her out of her dripping wet clothes, letting them flop to the floor in little wet thuds, his own towel lost somewhere in the tussle. They fell back into the bed, Ororo clambering on top of the shorter, broader man, letting go of his mouth just long enough to sit up and discard her bra.

                As she sat straddling him, now completely naked, she finally seemed to collect herself, blinking down at the man beneath her who looked as heated and yet startled as she was. “Is this okay?” she asked him, nervously licking her lip. “Tell me if I’m moving too fast, I’ll—“

                He ran his thick rough hands up her thighs and leaned up to wrap himself around her and kiss her again. “Darlin’ you don’t have to ask.”

                She exhaled, relaxing a little in his hands, feeling him nibble her neck, scraping his sharp canine’s across her pulsing skin before leaning over to nip at her shoulder and make her shudder, those big hands working down her taught back muscles and down to her ass before smoothing back across her thighs again, making them jolt and squeeze him in response.

                Logan moved his hands forward, taking his time, working over the curve of her hips and slowly up to the slope of her breasts, running his palm across her nipple before giving it a firm but gentle squeeze, as if testing the weight of it. Storm sighed, rocking forward again, feeling herself brush directly against him, earning a little moan from both of them.

                Her hand moved between their legs, gripping Logan’s girth in her hand and squeezing lightly as she drew him up and then down, feeling him harden further and shudder faintly. He kissed her again, harder and deeper, trying to pull her closer, though he hadn’t yet tried to push himself further between her thighs as other men often had.

                Finally breaking free from her lips, which he nipped at playfully upon departure, he dipped his head to her chest, kissing the tops of her breasts while moving his hands across them in slow circles, squeezing occasionally but never too long or too hard. Storm was impressed and arched to give him a bit more access and he rewarded her by moving his mouth down further, licking and nipping ,leaving little love bites here and there across her soft dark skin.

                The smell of her was driving him crazy, making his hips stutter under hers, rocking into her hands each time she stroked him, firmly but slowly, drawing it all out with teasing deliberateness. Logan had almost forgotten what it was like to be with a woman; remembering that their focus was often different from those of his male partners, the goal was always the same.

                He wondered if Storm had some other underlying talent that told her exactly what to do to drive him to the edge, but rather than tell her to slow down, he decided to distract her instead, by moving his hand between her thighs, fingers brushing lightly at the soft skin there, not quite moving between.

                Storm moaned at his teasing and scratched her nails down his back, trying to push herself closer for more contact, but Logan just flattened his palm against her pelvic bone, keeping himself just out of reach. “Not much for teasin’?” he mumbled, pushing a little further, feeling wetness and heat and seeing her cheeks turn deep rosy red as result.

                She gave him a wicked little grin, panting and grinning, digging one hand into his dark thick hair before kissing him again. “In the right circumstance, yes…ah! Mmmm!” her hips jolted against his palm as his index finger brushed over her clit. He grinned, loving the way she seemed to glow with excitement, repeating the action again just to hear her voice break and shudder in response. She let it go on for a minute or two, until she found herself surprisingly on edge. She moved his hand away, much to his surprise and pushed him back against the blankets before repositioning herself over him, rubbing him against her in a way that made him moan before allowing him to push just inside, squeezing herself around him.

                “Oh darlin’, that’s good!” he rasped, head falling back against the blankets as he swallowed dryly. “Ahh! God, woman, what are you doing?”

                Her muscles squeezed around him as she dipped her hips slowly up and down, letting him sink in just a centimeter or so at time, pulling back just as quickly and making him jolt. She was grinning down at him, watching sweat beat his flushed skin. Her hands were firmly planted on either side of him, but her mouth was free to continue torturing him. She let her sink down just a little further, sighing as he started to stretch her, and pressed her lips across his chest, moving down between his ribs, biting and licking until he was moaning and hissing, squeezing her thighs and hips, aching to go deeper. She was rocking and squeezing just right, Logan felt his stomach and thighs tense.

                “Ororo, I--!”

               She looked up, realizing he was about finish and decided to drop down fully, taking him to the hilt. Both of them shouted in surprise, Ro at the way he filled her so fully and Logan as the pressure sent him over the edge, hips sputtering, head thrown back and growling, teeth clenched.

                She felt the strange warmth of him inside her and licked her lips, watching him come down, leaning over him and stroking his chest coaxingly, trying to bring him back. He looked up at her, blinking and slightly nervous. “Sorry…”

                She kissed him sweetly, “Don’t be. And don’t worry, I’m on birth control.”

                Logan nodded, clearly relieved. She nuzzled him and he stroked her hair for a moment, still regaining himself and enjoying the way she felt settled so completely on him. It was a few moments before she lifted her head again, blinking at him in surprise. “You’re still—“

                He laughed, rocking up into her lightly and making her whimper before giving her ass a little pinch. “Oh darling….ye didn’t think I’d leave ya hanging, did ya?”

                “But how?” she asked, feeling her smile widen as she stared into his, relieved and nervous all at once.

                “Stamina, darlin’. Can go for awhile…however long you need.” He nudged his hand between the two of them again, finding her sweet spot and pressing a little more firmly this time, catching it between the pads of both fingers and making her moan gratefully.

                “Oh gods, Logan please…!”

                He dug his heels into the bed, lifting his hips and rocking up into her, drawing back before doing so again so that he was pulling out about half way each time. Storm jolted on top of him each time he surged upward, moving her hips down to meet his and create more friction, his hand still working between them, making her squirm and moan until she couldn’t think about anything other than the tension pooling in her lower abdomen and thighs.

                Logan kept his eyes on her, watching, learning, seeing what sensations she reacted to more powerfully and acting accordingly. Storm had never had such an attentive male lover, it was almost too much process.

                He sunk his teeth lightly into the firm place above her right breast, pushing deeper and faster as he felt her start to tighten around him and then suddenly she shrieked, and he felt her flutter around him before a new sensation of being sucked inward took hold of him and made him groan as well, finishing a second time inside her.

                She melted on top of him, quivering all over and breathing hard. “Ro…you okay?” he breathed, craning his neck in an effort to see her face. She nodded faintly, still catching her breath, then slowly extracted herself from him. They both groaned at the loss and she rolled over beside him, legs closed tightly despite being splayed on her back.

                “You okay?” he asked again, feeling more tense now that the woman wasn’t quite speaking to him yet. She managed a nod and looked at him through hooded eyes, her eyes dark and foggy. “That was…not what I expected.” She rasped. “I have to say I’m pleasantly surprised.”

                Logan grinned sheepishly and grabbed the wet towel to clean himself with before rolling over and nuzzling against her. “Not too bad yerself there. Never felt that last thing before…”

                She smirked; “Then you must have gotten lucky with me, because it’s not easy to achieve.”

                He brushed his hand over her thigh and she shivered, hips rising to meet his hand, suddenly needy again. Logan looked at her, not sure how to proceed. She guided his hand back between her thighs and he moved slowly, deliberately, taking advantage of her lingering high.

                It was quicker this time, he watched her tumble over the edge within minutes, and decided to push her further, keeping pace despite her heightened sensitivity and frenzied twitching until she came again almost immediately with another loud moan that was bone deep with satisfaction. Finally she reached out and grabbed his wrist, stilling his hand and complied immediately, drawing away and laying down beside her to cradle her.

                “Easy girl, easy…” her legs shaking so hard she seemed to be almost vibrating, but he pulled her close and kissed her neck and shoulders and brought her back down until she could relax again. “You’re wonderful,” she panted after, nuzzling into his neck, arms around his shoulders.

                Logan smirked and kissed her forehead and laid their quietly for a time. As reality began to seep back into the forefront of her mind, the warm after glow faded and Storm began to wonder if she hadn’t fallen into the same trap Logan’s last few lovers had.

                She looked up at him then, pulling out of his embrace to look at fully. “Logan…are you alright with this? I mean…we never even…”

                “S’fine,” He mumbled, looking glassy eyed and tired again. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”

                “But I _do_ worry about you. That’s been the whole damn point.” She sat up, hands in her hair, cursing herself. “Dammit it…I didn’t want to rush this.”

                “Storm, it’s fine.”

                She looked over her shoulder at him, watching him nuzzle at her back, big hands circling her waist and pulling her back against him. “If there was something I wasn’t sure about, darlin’, I would have said something. Can’t say it didn’t take me by surprise, but…it was a welcomed surprise.” He kissed her shoulder softly. “Looks like I need another shower. Care to join?”

                She smiled at him but shook her head. “You go on, I need a minute to rest.”

                He nodded and slid out of the bed, making his way to her shower; with a slight limp no less. She watched him, noting the fading little scratches she’d left on his skin as they vanished. She waited until she heard the water running before lifting herself from the bed and searching for clean clothes.

                Her knees were weak, thighs aching faintly, not to mention the faint throbbing pulse she still felt from inside her. She could forget any workouts today, or any extended walking. She was going to be feeling the after affects all day…and that was just fine with her.

                After slipping into a clean pair of silk lounge pants and tank top she crawled back into her soiled sheets and curled up against her pillow, waiting Wolverine’s return. Everything that happened now was crucial, she needed Logan to realize she wanted all of him, not just this. There was tightness in her chest at the thought…somehow she just knew she was going to do something wrong.

                Taking what she wanted, forgoing all the usual games and odd rituals and rules the world seemed to set for her, came with its own perils. Logan seemed like such an alpha male…would be okay with a dominant mate in the long run? Storm wasn’t sure, though he seemed accepting at the moment.

                But there was a bigger fear…one that made her hug her pillow a bit tighter. Was she doing this for the right reason? She wanted to save Logan from being used and manipulated…but had she just traded one manipulative relationship for another? Did she even love the man?

                She cared for him, deeply, that she knew. But love…? She wasn’t ready for that word yet. How could she be? She’d fallen too fast, too deep…and now she wasn’t sure how to proceed.

                Logan emerged from the shower a moment later and joined her in the bed, curling up behind her, his nose pressed against the nape of her neck. He sensed her tension immediately, no doubt smelling it on her. “Talk to me, Ro. What is it?”

                “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, rolling over to look at him. “I feel like I rushed this, rushed _us._ You never even told me if you—“ He kissed her to quiet her.

                “I know what you think you’re doing for me, Ro. You think being with me will save me from Scott, or Jean or myself…maybe all three. Let me set ya straight right now, honey, ain’t no power on this Earth that can keep a man from destroying himself when he’s got his mind set to it.” He nuzzled her, noting her worried frown, and pulled her close. “I don’t need ya to save me, darlin’. Just keep me company, just…be with me. Like this. Doesn’t have to mean this or that or whatever. We’ll try it out, see how it fits. Enjoy the ride and…maybe not worry so much about where it’s going.”

                She nodded clinging to him hard. “You’re amazing.”

                “Naw, that’s all you. I’m just the slob who got lucky.” He nuzzled down beside her and closed his eyes, letting her burrow under his chin .

                She fell asleep first and he laid there, dozing, content enough with being so close and keeping watch over her. This felt good, it felt right…but there was a gnawing hole in his heart that kept him from relaxing, that whispered in his ear in the silence and pinched at his dreams. Nothing good ever seemed to last. Something, inevitably, would come to take this small bit of peace and comfort away from him. Whether by force or circumstance…he never knew.

                So he was left with only two choices; either walk away before it happened…or fight. He regretted that he not fought for Hank. He’d let him go, thinking it would hurt less that way. It hadn’t.

                He shifted Ororo a little closer to him and closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to give this one up so easily.

 

 


End file.
